


As Long As We Live in Hell

by linkami1379



Category: Deadman Wonderland
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Light Romance, M/M, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 02:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6312454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linkami1379/pseuds/linkami1379
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tamaki discovers the affections the Woodpecker holds for the Crow and relishes utilizing that information. The two birds find themselves in a Carnival Corpse once more, and the decisions they make from that point on may lead to heartbreak or healing... but either way, it's in this hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Long As We Live in Hell

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I am also timelordEowyn on FanFiction and this is posted there as well. I'm bringing it to AO3 because I'm more active here and such. I wrote this about a year and a half ago and I actually still like it? What is this?
> 
> Right, now this fic is a little fluffy and a little OOC for Senji, but I tried to make it as realistic as possible. I ship these two (so that's slash, if y'all don't like it, bye:) ) but I didn't want it to be unrealistic... the struggle. I feel like love in a place like that is impossible, so their relationship is a little desperate and pretty confusing, but ultimately feels right. I'm planning on writing more soon, as in after this is posted here. Let me know how I did. Feedback is awesome! 
> 
> When sentences are italicized, it's the character's thoughts. 
> 
> I don't own the characters or world.

The cages lower to the battlefield with revolting precision. Not a squeak or clang to be heard. Families and couples crowd the auditorium, munching on rich snacks and sickly sweet drinks. They chatter amongst each other, free birds observing their beaten and broken kin. And while the pristine metal bars rest upon the stage, the Crow’s eye flits across the swathe of magnificent colors that float and weave together amongst the crowd. The Crow’s heart beats soundly in his chest, sheathed in a brittle, black dome. He’s been here so many times. A voice rings clear throughout the audience, beginning the narration of todays Carnival Corpse. The Crow smirks as he stretches one leg through the cage door and drowns in a beam of bitter, bright light. Just another day in paradise, he thinks, preparing to face his daily adversary: the Chickadee.

“And here we have the sharpest bird of the bunch… the Crow!” The crowd caws and shrills with his entrance. 

The Crow gazes at the cage opposite him, picking out his adversaries blurred silhouette. _I swear she was taller than that…_ He cocks his head, grinning at the way the inky shadow shakes as it walks forward. 

“And then we have the Woodpecker!”

_No. No way in hell is that runt… on the other side of this…_

The light drops like an anvil on the other bird in the cage, and that bitter dome around the Crow’s heart fractures. Just a bit.

“Kid!” Senji roars across the heinously white floor, adrenaline piercing his veins. “What the fuck are you doing here!”

The other boy shudders under Senji’s rage, blinking rapidly against the bleach white stage. Senji’s stomach whirls with the sight of the spiky haired kid, twisting and churning and thinking of blood and guts and shattered bones littering that white, white stage. 

_Those bastards…those fucking bastards!_

“Ho ho! How will this rematch pan out, hmm?” Senji grits his teeth and attempts to drown out the speaker. 

_Anyone but him._

“No…” Ganta whispers, clenching and unclenching his fists with abandon. 

“What did you do,” Senji snarls. He spits violently to the side as the light grows brighter around the two trapped birds. A single, clear droplet splatters near Ganta’s feet. 

“Will the Crow make a wild comeback? Or be bested by the tiny once more?!”

Ganta takes one quick step towards him. Then another. And one more, his foot slicing through the air as if speed is the only way to pass through space. Then Ganta’s sprinting towards Senji. With each movement, the young boy flinches, like the thought of coming any nearer is harming him. He seems to be muttering to himself, his lips fluttering like a lost bird’s wings. 

_No. Not that boy. Don’t let the insanity of this place take him now._

“Let the game begin!”

A wave of uncontrollable rage splinters his cognizant thought, and he is rushing to the boy, his blood slithering from newly slashed forearms. The anger blooms hotter and sharper with each breath. _Those bastards know he’s nearly useless._ Senji reaches the runt within two heartbeats. _And they know he’s innocent._ Senji slams into him and grips the boy’s neck, lifting his struggling body high in the air. Their breaths are pulsing and ragged. _They also know he is soft._ Senji presses his blade against Ganta’s stomach. _And they know he doesn’t give up._

“What,” Senji growls low in his chest, “were you thinking?”

“I didn’t… *cough* ...do anything,” Ganta whimpers, turning his head to the side and nearly retching to breathe. 

“You fucking moron!” Ganta is flung to the ground with a resounding smack. He lifts himself up with tears in his eyes as the other reins in his temper. But when Senji locks eyes with Ganta, the tears rim those eyes of pure hurt. They are the irises that beg for forgiveness and weep for everyone around him. They are pathetic, haunting, deep and… silver. They are the epitome of Ganta. _And they’re sort of… beautiful._ Suddenly, Senji feels like he’s going to hurl.

“Fine,” Senji snaps, flitting his eye around the cage. Anywhere but at the boy. “Then at least do something now that you're here!” Ganta doesn't move. He only stares into Senji, perhaps into his black, crusted soul. It burns, fueling the immense anger in his gut. “Why you little…” Senji swings his blade at the boy, but Ganta manages to dodge, albeit shakily. Finally, Ganta readies his gun and fires three shots. 

“Thats more like it!” Senji hollers. _Just like the first time…_

It becomes a dance of sorts. A sick, bloody, and anemic dance. And Ganta never loses that strange something in his eyes. _It’s like he’s… looking inside me,_ Senji thinks as he easily avoids a bullet and leaps into the air. Ganta races and weaves between the slices Senji deals. They twirl together, nearly in sync. But it’s obvious that Ganta is struggling. Senji hears him mutter words under his breath as they move. 

“Dodge. Shoot. Spin.” 

_He’s repeating his actions…_

“Don’t think. Fight. Those bastards. Shoot. Dodge. Shit, falling.” Ganta tumbles after Senji’s attack nicks his shoulder. 

_Oh fuck._ Senji backs up a hairs-width. _He’s really struggling…_

Ganta remains on the ground, but he lifts his hand and shoots bullet after bullet at Senji, all of which he dodges seamlessly. _It’s as if… he’s trying to miss…?_ The boy lays flat on his back, breathing heavily while sweat gathers profusely on his paling skin. 

“You’re acting as if you have all the blood in the world, kid! You know better than this!”

Nothing. _Dammit, kid…_

The dance continues. And Senji becomes… worried. And it’s frustrating, to feel worried for the runt. Ganta is faltering, hardly avoiding Senji’s attacks any more and he stops dealing his own in return. Tears begin to pool in his silver eyes once more as they leap around each other. A second bubble of frustration pops, and Senji is using his sonic slice and the boy isn’t moving and Senji won’t stop because _hell it’s the boy’s fault if he doesn’t move and I sure as hell do **not** care if he stays where he is, it’s probably better in the long run and fuck he’s really not moving and I’m not stopping, I don’t really want to hurt him,_ fuck— and then the blood is rich and thick like the slushies in the stands. 

Senji crouches for a moment, dumbstruck by the bullseye he just made, before pulling in his blades with a sickening splat. He kneels down and crawls to the fallen Ganta and turns him over gently, removing his face from the crimson pool. Senji feels empty as he robotically checks for a heartbeat and clears the blood away from the kid’s eyes and nose. He rests his hands on the boys chest. All the rage and emotion that had flown freely through his system is bleeding away and lies for all to see on the bleached ground. Ribs are visible through the boy’s suit. Torn muscles clench as — _yes!_ — the heart beats. As the commentator names Senji the winner of this Carnival Corpse, Ganta slowly opens his eyes. And Senji catches his breath in surprise. _They’re just so… alive._

Ganta moans. 

“Stop straining yourself, dumbfuck,” Senji whispers. 

A trickle of blood slips past tan lips. Senji blinks, frustrated by the moistness in his eye. “I think… *cough*… they… found out… I c-cared,” he says. Another blink. “About you.” Senji wouldn't have been surprised if the boy had kneed him in the midriff when all the air left his body and his mind went on overdrive. Ganta’s eyes squeeze shut, shoving out a trail of tears. “And I… d-didn’t… want you to go… in there because of me… again.”

“Idiot,” Senji repeats, clenching his hands that remain over Ganta’s heart. “Fucking idiot.” Ganta smiles as the stretcher is brought out. 

_He fought me, knowing he was going to let me win._ Senji glares down at the red mess on his body. _Why the hell did I ever think he was smart?_

Senji denies the fact that it hurts like a bitch, the fact that this kid lost a Carnival Corpse for him. Denies that a small shard of warmth is worming it’s way into the fractured shield around his heart. Denies that he’s scared for him. 

“Now… we’re even…” Ganta pants as they lift him up and rush him out of the bright, ruby-dyed cage. 

And all the sound returns as Senji rotates slowly. The cheering, the whistling, the commentator reviewing the exciting bits, his blood pumping like a piston through his ears. The idiot cares. 

_That little fucker let himself care for someone._ Senji blinks rapidly into the lights, the scent of copper melting into the back of his mouth. _So much that he’d get the shit beaten out of him extra in this hellhole._

Senji walks stiffly out of the cage and away from the cacophonous cheering. And now he’s going to be in the Penalty Game. Senji shakes his head, gritting his teeth. _Not the kid… not him… Dammit, I should have lost!_ He places a hand over his eyepatch before slamming his fist into the wall, breathing heavily. 

_He really shouldn’t care for me._

_Because I… I don’t want anything to happen to him either…_

Senji finds himself in his room. 

_And that’s dangerous. The caring._

He stands in the middle of his room, the silence out of place with the wild orchestra in his mind.

_No one cares for me._

_And no one should._  
——————————————————————

Ganta manages to open his eyes a fraction of a sliver, and considers that a massive accomplishment. He wonders if beetles are burrowing into his abdomen and gnawing at his ribs while laying eggs within his flesh. Because that’s how it feels. 

“Wakey wakey!” purrs Doctor Rei Takashima. Ganta can sense her hovering above his battered body. Now the beetle eggs are hatching; nausea builds up at an alarming rate. 

“I think… I’m gonna be sick…” Ganta heaves a little, and the muscles in his stomach stretch and tear against his shattered ribs. His eyes bulge at the shrieking pain. He momentarily notices the bright pillar of light shining on him before black spots cloud his vision.

“Ah ah ah! Can’t have that yet, I want to cut you apart first!” Rei pouts a little before stepping over to the accursed lever. “Shall we deal you a good one?”

Ganta remains silent, silently recovering from his attempt to vomit. He can hardly see through the pain of Senji’s hit. _Senji… dammit, Senji._

The insane doctor shoves all her weight onto the lever, a maniacal grin cracking her face. It spins and spins while she licks her lips in anticipation. “Just tell me when you want it to stop,” Rei sings, her words brimming with poisonous passion. _It’s for Senji._ Ganta tells himself, chanting a small mantra. _Senji isn’t in here. I am in his place. Intentionally. It’s for Senji…_

“Stop it,” Ganta whispers, and the mad doctor halts the spinning with feral ferocity. Ganta stares at his punishment without flinching. _Because it’s for Senji._

“Oh goody! You are so cute, I can’t wait to add this to my collection,” Rei cries. _Because he is my friend._

Rai saunters over to him and lowers her lips down to his left ear. “Won’t it be interesting, being deaf in this ear for the rest of your pathetic life?” Ganta holds his breath, restraining his cries for help. _I got myself in here and now I need to go through with it._

She takes one shining, steel scalpel and gazes at it with adoration. Then her eyes slide over to Ganta’s clammy face, her brilliantly red lips curving into another sickle-shaped grin. She leans down once more, the scalpel poised languidly in her hand. Ganta begins to shake. _No, no, **no**! Get that away from me!_

“Hmmm… looks sharp doesn't it?” Rei asks, continuing to smile coyly down at him. She slides the scalpel over his cheek, slicing clean and straight. It’s like the worst and slowest paper cut Ganta has ever had the misfortune of experiencing. He can’t help but whimper. _It’s because I want to do whatever I can for Senji._

“Just checking!” she giggles. “Now for the fun part.”

_Because I care about him._

Ganta looses track of everything real as Rei works her sorcery. Later, he can’t actually recall how much he screamed or flailed or when he passed out. At the time, he only knows the traumatizing pain of losing his left ear. The way she slides the scalpel through the cartilage with artful and agonizingly slow precision eats away at Ganta’s sanity. She makes a large, swooping crater on the outside of his ear before slicing on the inside. Ganta tastes bile in his month and feels it sliding down his chin. _Fuck, get it away, get it away!_ Electricity is spiking his nerves and spiraling out of control as nerves are spliced and shattered and _fuck fuck fuck fuck._

Then Ganta watches as she grasps a tweezers from her tray and begins to— 

When she tears out his eardrum, Ganta loses everything. The wretched agony, the way his screams become lopsided, the fact that he really is still on earth and still alive, all fades away. 

He doesn't remember her patching him up.

He doesn’t remember returning to his room. 

He doesn't remember Senji standing at his bedside for a full hour, the other man’s own emotions beating the inside of his skull.

Ganta opens his eyes to a dark room with a dark hole in his skull and a dark spot in his mind. He weeps silently in the darkness as he spirals in and out of consciousness. 

_It… was for Senji… because he’s my friend… because I care about him… and I won’t lose him._

Ganta thinks about Shiro and Karako and Nagi. He thinks about how they care about him, and how he cares about them. And about how caring for someone in this place is equivalent to a burning desire to be tortured. 

And as he drifts off again, Ganta thinks about Senji. Senji is a friend. But he’s also a comrade. He’s someone Ganta wants to be like. He’s someone Ganta craves the company and attention of. He’s frustrating and harsh and comforting and nearly unbearable. 

“He’s… precious,” Ganta realizes, his voice quiet and harsh from screaming. He shivers with the revelation. 

_I can’t lose someone precious again._

The shadow outside Ganta’s door stirs. 

—————————————————————

Senji can force himself to stay in the weight room for two hours before he finds himself stationed outside Ganta’s door once more. He stares at the metal slab, waiting. Waiting for his heart to stop ricocheting off his ribs. Waiting for his mind to make a decision. 

What the hell has this kid brewed up. _I haven’t felt this protective over someone in ages._

As he waits, he hears Ganta whimpering inside. It’s soft, like light rain on a prairie of wild grasses. 

_Idiot._

The minutes pass and and an hour drags itself out of sight. _Why am I still here?_

It’s cold and smells like antiseptic and bleach. 

_Because of that fucking kid._ Senji waits. 

And then, in the dark recesses of Ganta’s room, he hears two words: “He’s precious.” Senji flinches at the unexpected disturbance to this limbo of silence and maddening thoughts. The soft, cracked voice sounds… satisfied. Senji steps back, away from the door, his mind racing beside his heart. _What are you mumbling about, dumbfuck._

Senji’s hair stands straight up and his senses are straining for any other signs of life, but it appears the kid is sleeping again. But those two words are all Senji needs to bring him to a decision. _I’ll watch over him._ He lifts one hand up to the door handle and twists as if his life depends on it. _Why the fuck is this so difficult?_

The door swings open and Senji walks stiffly into the jet black room, locking the door behind him. _Those bastards can think whatever they like, but they won’t see me in here with the kid._

Ganta nests in his blanket like a kitten in a cold, barren world. He’s curled in on himself, shielding his wounded abdomen and locking his hands near his collarbone. The black dome around Senji’s heart cracks even further. He sighs, running a hand through his untamable hair, and pads over to the kid’s bedside. Ganta faces the blank wall, and his… prize from the Penalty Game lies for all the see. The dressings appear clean and dry enough, Senji thinks, grimacing at the memories. 

Of course he had watched it. The fucker had risked his life to be in that room instead of Senji. Therefore, Senji took it upon himself to witness each stroke of the blade, listen to every howl from the boy’s lips, and watch each stitch lace together the remains of Ganta’s ear. 

The fact that Senji had seen worse was the only reason he hadn’t lost his dinner.

The fact that it was Ganta on the table was the only reason he shed a tear.

Now, Senji gazes at the boy as he shivers with obvious fever. A blossom of warmth cradles the black dome over Senji’s heart, begging entrance. The warmth hurts. It pulses and prods, gentle but stubborn. And Ganta shakes relentlessly. 

_Fuck._

An urge to hold the boy and protect him from everything and everyone subdues Senji. 

_I don't **want** to feel anything for him._

Senji struggles with something inside him, fighting and shaking nearly as much as the boy laying in front of him. Until something relaxes with one treacherous, ugly, tentative thought.

_But I do care about him._

Senji drops his head and relaxes his clenched fists, only then realizing he had them tensely balled up. He releases a sigh that is that of a dying man: long and defeated.

_It took so much work to figure that out, so I’m not about to let this damned place keep me from having him._

_Though I’ve lost so much before…_

Senji shuffles closer to the bed and rests himself gently onto the mattress. 

_I don’t care if it’s wrong anymore._

He lifts his legs up and lies parallel to the near convulsing Ganta. 

_He’s… I guess he’s a friend._

Two sturdy arms encircle the boy’s shoulders and roll him onto Senji’s chest. 

_Who am I kidding, it's more than a friend. And it’s not a one time feeling either… disgusting, I'm a fucking pedophile._

Senji sighs heavily. _I’ve been feeling this way for some time now. Fucking shit._

Ganta lies cradled on Senji, his slender back pressing against Senji’s chest and his hands enfolded in Senji’s larger ones. He shifts the boy’s head so the remains of his ear face the black ceiling. Senji drags the rough blanket over both of them and leans back, holding the other boy close.

_Either way, he’s mine._

“Ooooowww, shit, what’s…" Ganta shudders violently. "… Going on?” 

Senji’s previous confidence begins to drop like dead leaves and he absentmindedly tightens his grip on the boy. 

“Fuck! Ow, what the hell, who are you?” Ganta becomes remarkably awake in a short period of time and attempts to struggle, which leads to more gasps of pain. 

_I really don’t like him though._

“It’s just me, dumbass, calm your shit,” Senji mutters, a faint red blotting his face. Ganta freezes. Then shudders with another bout of fever. 

“S-Senji… what are you—“

“I care about you too, kid, so just shut the fuck up.”

“…”

“And you shouldn't have done that, I can take care of myself, I don’t need a runt going all out and making himself some sort of ‘hero’. It doesn’t even suit you,” Senji hisses. 

“…” This silence is fucking annoying. _I feel like such a dipshit now._

“Fuck, Ganta, do you want me to leave? I can leave, I just thought… hell, I have no fucking clue what I thought, but… yeah. That’s it, I’ll leave, this is fucking gay anyways—“

“I can’t really … hear you,” Ganta whispers, halting Senji’s rant at record speed. “I mean, I think I know what you’re saying, but … shiver…” The boy shifts his head and cringes at the stretching skin.  

“Oh.” Senji feels like someone poured ice water over his teeth, and he cringes at his lack of observation.

_Damnit, that fucking doctor stole that from the kid, and then I completely spaced the fact that… he can’t hear…out of that ear anymore…_

“But I heard some. I d-don’t want you to leave. I… want you here. I… It’s stupid…” Ganta pauses, shivering and searching blindly for the right words. Senji remains silent, the warmth around his fractured heart-barrier breaking through. It’s overwhelming him, the sense of completion he has while lying in this mangy bed with the boy in his arms. 

“I might die tomorrow,” Ganta blurts out, speaking a little too loud, and then hissing with agony. 

Senji scoffs and grins at the boy’s hair. “Yeah, so could I, kid.”

“So even if life hurts worse now, that’s better than having it easier and getting blown up tomorrow, right?” 

Senji furrows his brows in confusion. What the flying fuck is he on about? “Uhh,” he states, clearing his throat to make sure he’s loud enough for the boy to hear. “In some convoluted way, yeah.”

“Then,” Ganta says, breathing in deep and tensing his entire body with the strain on his battered body. “I want to feel love before I die. Or think I’ve felt love, or something like that, something that I think is love.” This time Senji chokes and growls low in his throat. 

“That’s a whole load of shit, kid. Love…” the word feels heavy on his worthless tongue, “isn’t real. Not here. Not for anyone here.”

Ganta sniffs. “It… could be. I mean, we could pretend.”

“Now that just seems like a crime within itself,” Senji laughs nervously, making sure not to shake the boy too badly. He’s such a dreamer. Love. It isn’t possible here…

“Well, I want to love you,” Ganta shouts, burrowing his face into the musty blanket. Senji doesn’t need to see to know that tears are soaking into the gray fabric by the bucket-load. And then he panics while the boy continues to shiver and shake.

No, no way in hell he said that. _I don’t want that. Coming in here and comforting him… that’s not going to happen often. A nothing thing. Right?_

Something inside him cracks. _No._

Senji, to his utter disbelief, senses the black barrier around his heart shatter. The pieces jingle down into the blackness of his mind and warmth embraces his heart. It flutters and pounds with the fierce beating of his body’s metronome, cheering and twinkling at this forgotten relationship. Senji panics. _I can’t **love** here, I can hardly care about someone! I would rather have an easier route and blow up tomorrow… right?_ A light begins to spin around his heart, bonded to the warmth of…of Ganta. _We’ll only hurt each other, and worry, and then we’ll both die._

 _But I want to feel this_. Senji startles when a warm bead falls from his single eye and plops into Ganta’s messy locks. _I want to be loved._

_And I want to love him. I actually do. Why didn't I know I was such a pathetic softy?_

“Kid…” Ganta shudders more, keening at the pain of his spliced midriff. Senji sighs, shifting to stroke the boy’s dark hair with shaking fingers. “Ganta…” 

The boy moves slightly to hear him better. Senji takes a quick breath.

“I… want to love you too, k?” Senji continues, hastily brushing Ganta’s hair with his restless hand. “And it’s gonna hurt like a bitch, but… whatever.” Then he closes his eye and waits for Ganta’s reply, never ceasing his ministrations. His heart is beating into an inferno and he feels nauseous with anticipation. This is probably the worst decision I’ve ever made.

“Stay with me tonight?” 

Senji smiles. _The worst good decision._

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll stay.”

Ganta twists his head so he’s peering up at the older man. Senji is once again shocked by the brilliance of the boy’s eyes… So silver. So bright. 

“I’m sorry—“

“Don’t you dare apologize. Not now, not ever,” Senji orders. “That’s one thing about this ‘love’ thing. You don’t apologize for it, okay? … And I don’t want to think about earlier, either. So… just shut up,” Senji finished, muttering the end more to himself than to the boy in his arms. Ganta makes an agreeable sound in his throat before placing shuddering, cool lips on Senji’s chin. The pattering of Senji’s heart rises to a crescendo and he’s concerned that his face will melt away or combust on the spot. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, idiot,” Senji says breathlessly. Ganta sighs but is cut short when Senji’s lips meet his for a brief moment of chaste passion and burning, wild affection. It’s gone before Senji’s heart can beat once more and he gasps at the quick removal. _Now my face is in flames. I know it is._

“Then, thank you,” Ganta murmurs, smiling into the confines of Senji’s arms. 

“Go to sleep, Ganta.” Ganta reaches for Senji’s hand and holds it close, smiling wider at the way Senji actually uses his name. 

Senji allows his body to relax into the bed and into the body that rests on him. His heart feels so much more delicate… but much stronger and much more powerful. His heart is not as sick as it once was. It is protected by light now, not darkness. 

“… thank you, kid.” 

_Even though this will certainly kill us in the end,_

_even though it will brand our souls and torture our hearts until then,_

_this will be better._

_I’ve always wanted to feel ‘love’._

_So, thank you, Ganta._

_Thank you for sharing this with me, for as long as we live in this hell._


End file.
